


Find A Place

by banshee_in_the_dark



Series: Lazy Lover Series [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Romance, sex in coache's office
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 19:21:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banshee_in_the_dark/pseuds/banshee_in_the_dark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has a free period. Lydia has <i>ideas</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Find A Place

Stiles quirks an eyebrow when his pone vibrates in his pocket in the middle of class, his heart starting to beat rapidly. Scott is sitting right next to him, still shell-shocked after what he saw earlier this morning and avoiding at all costs looking Stiles in the eye, and since his dad never texts him when he’s at school, there’s only one person that text could come from. He fishes his phone from his pocket and covertly checks it. _“Coach’s office. Next period.”_

The effort not to smile like a lovesick fool is a hard one. He checks the time, impatiently willing the minutes to go by faster as he alternately relieves the glorious moment he and Lydia shared together this morning and thinks about what they might do next. The dam holding back all his fantasies and dirty thoughts has effectively been broken and he plans to put every single one of them to good use.

When the bell finally rings after what feels like ages, Stiles jumps from his desk, accidentally smacking Danny with his backpack. “Sorry dude,” he calls over his shoulder as he runs out of the room, leaving Scott and Danny looking after him.

“Don’t ask,” Scott says wearily when Danny gives him a questioning look. “I’d stay far away from the locker room if I were you.”

Stiles weaves expertly through the throngs in the hallways, evading every obstacle in his way when possible and mumbling apologies to the people he inevitably pushes past. He can barely contain his excitement. He’s about to spend his free period doing naughty things with the girl he loves and has consistently based every fantasy he’s ever had on. He doesn’t think he’ll ever not get excited about being with her.

Stiles reaches Coach’s offices and bolts through the door. Lydia is already expecting him and her laughter rings like a song in his ears as she laughs at his red cheeks and disheveled state.

“Two minutes. I’m impressed,” she coos. “Did you run all the way here?”

“More like galloped,” he says, breathless, and shuts the door behind him before carelessly dropping his bag on the corner and crossing the short distance to where she is leaning back on the desk.

He crowds her, his arms coming to rest on her sides over the smooth surface of the desk. Their height difference is greater than usual and with a glance he sees she’s kicked off her pumps, standing barefoot on the cold floor.

With a smirk, Stiles loops his arms around her and lifts her enough to settle her on the edge of the desk. He ducks his head to kiss her, but Lydia’s fingertips touching his lower lip gently stop him.

“This looks like it hurts,” she grimaces, soothing the red, swollen section of his lip where she bit him earlier. “I’m sorry.”

She brushes a gentle kiss on the small wound. She needn’t apologize. She gave him that in a moment of passion and he wears it proudly. The sting reminds him everything that’s happened between them is real, he has her, and he’s hers. Completely.

Stiles deepens the kiss, licking gently inside her mouth and teasing her soft lips. She sighs against him, breathing the small puff of air into Stiles mouth and for some reason that feels more intimate to him than anything they’ve ever done. He threads his fingers through the long tresses of her hair, brushing it back and relishing in the silky feel of it.

Lydia’s hands run up and down his chest before linking at his nape and teasing the short hairs at the back of his neck.

“Is this a good idea?” he whispers, applying his lips underneath her ear and feeling her shiver in his arms. “Here?”

She nods, pulls him closer to her and looping her legs around his waist. “Finstock’s in class.”

“ _You_  should be in class,” he teases, bringing his hands to her thighs and rubbing lazy circles on her sides as he continues peppering kisses down the line of her neck over the lace of her dress.

“I can afford to miss class,” Lydia assures and he grins, coming back up to devour her mouth once again. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” she confesses, her eyes hooded under heavy lids, dark with desire. Her fingers make quick work of his fly and she pushes his pants half way off with her feet.

“Me too,” Stiles’ hands slip under her skirt, hooking his fingers on her panties.

He disentangles himself form her and starts sliding them down her legs slowly, kissing and nipping the line of her perfect legs as he goes. When he finally takes them off, he wads them in a ball and pushes them inside his pocket, before kissing her all the way back up. He brushes her skirt up and plants a smacking kiss over her clit before running the flat of his tongue generously over her slick folds.

“You’re _so wet_  Lyds,” he groans.

“I told you,” she whines, breath catching as his thumbs hold her folds open and Stiles thrusts his tongue inside her pussy. “All morning –couldn’t stop thinking – _Oh my God_ ,” Lydia moans as he licks deep inside her and bumps his nose to her clit, hands slipping behind her on the smooth surface of the desk.

Her orgasm takes him completely by surprise. He wasn’t _actually_  trying to make her come yet so that was definitely a plus. A fresh wave of wetness hits his tongue and he groans against her, sweeping his tongue over her as she buckles against his face riding her climax.

Lydia’s hand wads on his collar and she pulls him up. Her chest rises up erratically with her breathing. Her plump lips are parted in a gasp and she’s practically laying on the desk, sprawled before him like a sacrificial virgin. She looks so hot and he wants her _so fucking much_ , Stiles almost shoots his load right there.

Instead, he ravages her mouth, enjoying the way Lydia moans at the taste of herself, pulling his tongue inside her mouth and sucking enthusiastically. Stiles reaches a hand into his pocket for a condom, breaking their kiss for a second to tear the foil packet with his teeth and quickly rolls it on his length.

“Come on Stiles,” Lydia urges him on, clenching her thighs around him as he lines his cock to her entrance.

He shoves his way inside her with a hoarse muffled moan, an arm wrapping securely around her waist as her lowers her fully against the desk, bracing himself on his forearm above her head. Lydia squirms and whimpers under him, rolling her hips in an urgent effort to make him move. He needs to take a second to calm down; he was very close to cuming from just one thrust and there is no way in hell he’s gonna let that happen. Stiles nibbles her lower lip, then licks gently as she opens form him and moves her lips against him, her hands groping for purchase and settling for gripping the front of his shirt.

His groin tightens as he begins to move in and out of her in long thrusts, biting his own lip to curve the urge to pound her onto the desk.

“Stiles, oh,” Lydia arches against him, taking him as deep as he’ll go. They both groan loudly when Stiles’ cock kisses the mouth of her womb, mindless of the world beyond the door.

He repeats the movement two more times, holding deep inside her for a few seconds before slipping out. At the third time Lydia’s walls flutter and clench against him and she clings to him, burying her face in his neck to muffle her high pitched moans. Feeling her come undone around him is more than Stiles can handle. Biting back a primal growl he spills his seed into the condom and moves ruthlessly inside her.

They sag against one another, Lydia hugging him close to her and rubbing his back soothingly and Stiles nuzzling her neck lazily.

They’re abruptly brought out of their daze by the sound of the door of the locker room slamming closed and heavy footsteps approaching.

“Fuck,” Stiles curses as he jumps away from Lydia, removing the condom with as much delicacy as possible and dropping it in the trashcan in the corner before tucking himself quickly back into his pants and zipping up.

He turns to Lydia who is frantically looking around the floor, face flushed and clothes disheveled but intact, dragging a hand through her hair.

He spots a can of room-freshener on a shelve and just as he starts to spray it wildly around them the door burst open and Coach stops dead in his tracks as if just walked into an invisible wall.

“What the hell?” his eyes jump from Lydia standing perfectly still, unblinking and with her lips pressed into a thin line, to Stiles, gaping and with the can of room-freshener still in his hand over his head. Stiles can tell the moment his brain makes the connection and figures out why they’re there because he reels back, his eyes go round as marbles and a horrified gasp escapes him. “You two,” Coach gestures to the both of them with a shaking hand. “ _In here?_ ” he shudders. “I eat _lunch_  here,” he gags, giving them a reproachful look.

“Coach, we’re so sorry,” Stiles starts, holding the room-freshener with both hands before him in supplication. “We can explain.”

“Please don’t,” Coach turns his head away dramatically. “Just –get back to class and we can pretend this never happen.”

“I’m good with that,” without further ado Lydia brushes past Coach.

He stops him as Stiles goes to follow her. “And this better not happen again. Got it, Stilinski?” he glares warningly.

“Sure, yes. Absolutely,” Stiles nods enthusiastically, grateful that they’re not gonna get in any trouble, and dashes away.

“And Stilinski,” Stiles comes to a stop at the door of the locker room, shutting his eyes and dreading whatever might come out of Coach’s mouth now. “You make a nice couple. Don’t screw it up,” Stiles whips around, shock evident in his face. Coach greets him with a steady glare. “Now get out of my sight.”

Lydia is waiting for Stiles just outside the door, pacing worriedly and wringing her hands.

“We’re okay, we didn’t get into any trouble,” Stiles assures her, breathing out a sigh of relief. “He thinks we’re cute together,” he adds with a smirk.

Lydia blinks at him, unimpressed. “I lost my panties,” she deadpans. “In there.”

Stiles starts to panic, but then he remembers. “Oh,” he smiles wolfishly, taking a cursory glance along the hallway to make sure they are alone. “You mean _these_?” he pulls the thin scrape of white lace out of his pocket and waves it like a flag in front of him.

She yelps, tugging them away from him and stuffing them in the hidden pocket of her dress, furtively looking around them as he breaks in hysterical laughter. “Not funny, Stilinski,” she huffs, crossing her arms and pushing her chest up in a very flattering way.

“It’s a little funny,” Stiles steals a quick kiss, making her smile grudgingly.

“Come on, we have a few minutes before the bell rings,” Lydia links their fingers together and they make their way down the hall.

“Hey Lyds?” he pushes the exit door and holds it open for her, sees the gentle autumn breeze play with Lydia’s strawberry blond tresses, fanning the hair around her face. She looks up at him, holds her hand out for him to take it again, and his heart skips a beat. “Where would you like to go for our first date?”

He’s too distracted by her blinding smile to actually hear her answer.

**Author's Note:**

> Still with me? Just wave at me from the floor to make sure you're ok ;) 
> 
> Don't forget to let me know what you thought of this!


End file.
